


Why Not Me?

by Setkia



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: As it should be, Canon - Book, Confessing Via Queen, I Wrote This After I Read Good Omens the First Time and the Show Didn't Exist, I'm Too Lazy to Change the Pronouns of God and it Also Works Better for the Queen Song So ..., Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Armagedon't, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: ‘Can anybody find me somebody to love?’Aziraphale bit his lip. Crowley would gladly bite it for him. ‘Why not me?’‘Why not you?’ Crowley echoed.‘Why not … why not love me?’
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Why Not Me?

The problem with listening to Queen music endlessly, Crowley mused, was the lyrics.

Not the songs, no, if anything, Queen was the _best_ band to play on an endless loop, and he was sure when Ol’ Mercury bought the farm, Crowley could go and visit him. His vocals may have been heavenly, but Hell had dibs on the man. Crowley made sure of it.

Queen songs were very catchy, and Crowley had his favourites of the _Best of Queen_ album all his cassettes took on. The first few years he tried to sing along, he choked up on every reference to Him.

_‘Each morning I wake up, I die a little._

_Can barely stand on my feet_

_Take a look in the mirror and ask …’_

Now he just drummed the missing words on the steering wheel. It wasn’t as good as singing it, but Crowley had accepted he could never sing the full song.

He parked the car (crookedly, of course), and strut into the restaurant.

Crowley’s snake eyes scanned the room, falling on the man who appeared to have gotten dressed in the dark that morning (as he did every morning).

At this point, Crowley couldn’t remember who owed who a meal, but it was always nice to sit down with your enemy of six millennia.

‘You’re late,’ said the angel, handing him a menu.

‘Fashionably so,’ said Crowley, not bothering with the list. They had eaten here enough times for it to be another pointless thing Crowley had memorized. ‘What’s this all about? Could’ve sworn we were even.’

Aziraphale didn’t look up from his menu. ‘Can’t I have a meal with a friend?’

‘Better not let Him hear you saying something like that,’ the demon advised. ‘Whatever will the Higher Ups think?’

Aziraphale put down his menu and folded his arms on the table neatly. ‘It doesn’t matter if I call you a friend, when the Time comes, we’ll be enemies.’

‘Of course.’

After ordering their usuals, the quaint diner’s radio began to emit static. For a moment, Crowley thought Death was checking in, and he quickly tried to come up with a good excuse for his casual meeting with an _angel_ but it was just an employee changing the station.

To Queen.

‘You’re grinning.’

Crowley’s raised eyebrow went above the frame of his sunglasses. 'Is that not allowed anymore? Didn’t know angels had a monopoly over my mouth muscles.’

Aziraphale gave him that amused smirk of his that said Crowley was entertaining, if not exhausting. To busy himself and not begin to make little pyramids with the extra milk and cream for the coffees, he began to hum along to the tune.

Aziraphale stared at him.

‘What?’

‘You’re singing.’

Crowley blinked. ‘Was I really?’

‘Mhm.’

The demon shrugged. ’S’a good song is all. Shame _not_ to sing to it.’ He quirked an eyebrow at Aziraphale. ‘Ever heard this one?’

‘I’ve heard them all, thanks to you.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ And he resumed singing, slightly louder this time.

He had lost his place in the song, but after so many years of hearing it, it didn’t take him long to get back to the part he should be at

‘ _Can anybody find me somebody to love?’_

Their meal came, the song stopped and they ate in silence.

When you know someone for six thousand years, it doesn’t really matter all that much what you say in their presence. When you know someone for six thousand years, the only reason you hang out with them is for their company, not their words.

They finished and split the bill, leaving the question who would owe who next up in the air.

Crowley was headed back to the Bentley when Aziraphale opened his mouth and said softly, ‘why not me?’

Crowley froze. Demon hearing was good for a great load of things, including picking up the subtle nuances of angel speech that’s spoken at a volume not meant to be heard by mortal ears. Good thing Crowley wasn’t mortal.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

Aziraphale looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Sorry, never mind—’

‘Tell me,’ Crowley urged. He used his tempting voice.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Angels shouldn’t lie, Aziraphale. Tell me.’

Aziraphale bit his lip. Crowley would gladly bite it for him. ‘Why not me?’

‘Why not you?’ Crowley echoed.

‘Why not … why not love me?’

It took a lot to shake the one who had tempted Eve. You could safely consider Crowley shook.

‘Aziraphale—’

‘It was … not a good idea. You can forget what I said.’

A hiss escaped Crowley’s lips. He ran his fingers through his hair, a habit he had picked up from the humans. He liked the feel of it, the texture. It helped distract him a little. And then he laughed.

Aziraphale bowed his head. ‘You do not have to mock me.’

‘Mock you?’ echoed Crowley. ‘I’m not mocking you!’ He meant it. He wasn’t sure if the angel knew, if the angel trusted him (a terrible idea, really), but it was the truth. ‘My — Hell, you really _are_ oblivious, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t understand.’

Ah, poor angel. He looked so confused.

‘You see, Aziraphale, the real question is not why _not_ love you, rather, it’s why _do_ I love you.’

Aziraphale blinked. It sounded an awful lot like Crowley was confessing to something.

‘Ah … er …’

“Ever eloquent, aren’t you, Angel?’

Said angel tilted his head. It was clear from his expression that his mind was racing, trying to figure out if Crowley was lying to him. ‘So, allow me to change the question. Why _do_ you love me?’

Crowley shrugged. ‘It’s ineffable.’

Aziraphale nodded. He still didn’t fully understand. That was okay. Crowley didn’t fully understand either. He found it was easier not to dwell on things too much. Thinking always ruined things. ‘So …’

‘So …’

The two human male-bodied beings stood apart from each other, the angel holding open the door to the quaint restaurant, trying very hard not to show how slack jawed he was, the demon on the steps to the establishment. If it were a film, Crowley imagined there would be dramatic music in the background as the two main characters finally saw eye to eye and confessed their undying love for each other. Heh. Undying love meant a hell of a lot more to angels and demons than to mortals who only had a few decades of life in them.

This was not a movie.

A customer pushed Aziraphale aside in her attempt to leave the establishment that said angel was blocking the exit to, and someone honked angrily at Crowley, cursing heavily about the way he had parked the Bentley.

Neither moved.

Well, Crowley didn’t move. Aziraphale was pushed, and forced off-kilter by the impatient patron of the dining place.

If this were a movie, Crowley mused, he’d catch Aziraphale and their eyes would lock and the six year old boys in the audience would scream “ew!” and the girls would cover their eyes, but secretly peak through their fingers and the mothers would smile because they sat through the entire boring film for this single instance, and the fathers wouldn’t be there because it was guy’s night out.

Crowley did not catch Aziraphale. He watched, highly amused, as the angel nearly toppled over the railing with as much grace as an elephant stampede.

The cursing of the disgruntled man trying to park his car continued.

Crowley lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. ‘Talk about it over a cup of cocoa?’

Aziraphale brightened.


End file.
